Shutter [Jonathan Byers] Stranger Things I

III: Friendship

friend·ship

noun

the emotions or conduct of friends; the state of being friends.

"Emilia?" His soft voice brought Emilia back to reality; she was not in the hospital feeling as though her entire world had been ripped from her. No, she was in her high school, alone in a classroom with Jonathan. There was something about the way that he said her name that made her feel safe, calm, and for once unworried.

"Yes?" Emilia made her eyes meet with his, and then dropped them two seconds after.

"You just..."

"Disappeared?"

"Yeah," he made a face, perplexed. Before Emilia could explain, he said, "I'm sorry I brought it up, the accident..."

I'm sorry I'm a bloody basket case. Run away, far away, Jonathan. I'm damaged goods.

"No, it's really alright," she lied, because the very thought of it brought back too many painful memories. She knew that to carry on conversation, something that was not her greatest strength, was the only way she could diffuse the tension and awkwardness that she seemed to carry everywhere with her. Even though it had felt like a whole minute had gone by with them simply trying to avoid full eye contact, it had only been a few seconds in reality. How time seemed to alter depending on the emotions at hand. "Uhm, for this project-"

Jonathan jumped onto the question, glad that there was no longer a silence between them. He had never noticed her eyes before, how striking blue they were. Her face was round and yet had elegant features; her pretty lips that would look stunning if she smiled more, the way her cheeks were reddening. But it was her eyes that had a power to them, and Jonathan was beginning to see that the power behind them was derived from the consistent sadness that filled them. It was there, he could see it, and he wanted a picture of it. "Family stuff, the long drawn procedure of getting Christmas set up. Seeing Will light up."

Emilia smiled again, and that sadness never ebbed.

"You?" Jonathan asked in return, slightly nervous to know her answer when she had no family foundation that was solid enough to support the weight of Christmas and traditions.

Emilia shook her head, "I have a few ideas. I'd rather not say."

"Oh," Jonathan was slightly taken aback, although he had been unsure about what her answer might be in the first place, given that the entire holiday season was ruined for her two years ago. And still, any more conversing was stolen from him; he had already run dry of ideas. Emilia was not easy to talk to, and yet he wanted to talk to her. "Do you... Want to get out of here?"

He'd heard it in the movies, he anticipated her answer.

And yet, she asked, "And do what?"

He was stumped; the challenge of talking to her and keeping her interest was harder than he thought, but he was up to it. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take a few photos."

"Of me?" Emilia felt the words fall from her mouth and immediately felt like a narcissist. She gaped, startled about her own choice of words, and quickly went for the recovery. Feeling like a complete selfish, stuck up cliché, she went to speak when Jonathan beat her to the punch.

"Yes."

"What?" She narrowed her eyes, looking right into his for the first time. "Why?"

Jonathan shrugged; he was embarrassed to say. It was those eyes.